


Hark! The Angry Hunter Speaks

by JJ1564



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brothers, Christmas, Christmas Caroling, Cursed Dean, Frustrated Dean, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 08:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13209651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJ1564/pseuds/JJ1564
Summary: Based on the prompt - Dean is cursed to speak only in Christmas carols.





	Hark! The Angry Hunter Speaks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheYmp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheYmp/gifts).



> Written for Crowley's Christmas Fic Exchange on LJ. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, this is just for fun. All lyrics from https://www.carols.org.uk/
> 
> Thanks to Millygal for her help and encouragement.

“Morning, Dean. Coffee?” Sam asks, as Dean stumbles into the kitchen, wearing one of those god-awful dead guy robes he loves so much.

_“A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,_   
_For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.”_

“What?”

 _“A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,_  
 _For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn_.” Dean repeats, looking frustrated and clenching his fists.

“Okay, that’s random.” Sam stares at him. “What did you drink last night? Not the absinthe...”

“Why is Dean speaking in Christmas Carol Lyrics?” Cas asks as he enters the kitchen.

_"Fear not," he said, for mighty dread had seized their troubled minds_   
_"Glad tidings of great joy I bring, to you and all mankind,”_

“I didn’t even know he knew any Christmas carol lyrics. Impressive.” Sam grins.

Dean snatches the coffee mug that Sam holds out to him and takes a sip, then shakes his head, as if trying to clear it.

 _“We three kings of Orient are bearing gifts we traverse afar_  
 _Field and fountain, moor and mountain, following yonder star._ ”

“Holy crap, I think it’s some kind of curse. Dean doesn’t know enough carols to carry this off, if it’s a joke,” Sam looks from Dean to Cas.

Dean huffs as if to say, “about time too, idjit” and sits down, looking dejected as he stares at his coffee.

“What do you think, Cas?”

“Dean, can you say anything else?”

Dean pinches his nose and opens his mouth. He concentrates hard, but still repeats...

“ _We three kings of Orient are bearing gifts we traverse afar_  
 _Field and fountain, moor and mountain, following yonder star.”_

“I think he’s trying to tell us something, even in this form.” Cas scratches his head.

“You think we need to get in the car and find the witch who cursed you?” Sam asks, and Dean nods. “Okay, Dean go get ready, and we’ll find that witch.”

_“Don we now our gay apparel, fa la la, la la la, la la la._   
_Troll the ancient Yule tide carol, fa la la la la, la la la la.”_

Dean claps his hand over his mouth and stomps out of the kitchen, as Sam tries hard to stop laughing. Sam’s sorely tempted to record Dean on his cell, but he doesn’t want to end up with it shoved up his ass.

Dean returns a few minutes later, fully dressed and scowling.

 _“Angels from the realms of glory, wing your flight o'er all the earth,_ ” he growls at Cas, who is sitting at the table looking at Sam’s laptop.

“Okay, Dean, I am coming, don’t be impatient,” Cas sighs.

They head back to the small town just outside Chicago, where they’d ran into the witch. He was the organist for his local church, as well as being the owner of a record shop. He had helped them locate the remains of the spirit they were hunting. Dean had pissed him off by saying his record shop was “Like something from the fifties’, dude. Where’s Metallica? Where’s AC/DC? Just look at this - Pat Boone, are you kidding me?”

Sam sighs, glancing at Dean, who looks exhausted from a whole day of trying to speak and only being able to say carol lyrics, plus he insisted on driving -

_“O come, Thou Key of David, come, and open wide our heavenly home;_   
_Make safe the way that leads on high, And close the path to misery.”_

The scowl he wore the whole time was enough to give anyone a headache. Dean doesn’t even try to argue when Sam suggests they find a motel and tackle Derek the next day. Dean pulled the Impala into the motel parking lot and pointed at the diner.

_“Bring us out a table, and spread it with a cloth;_   
_Bring us out a cheese, and of your Christmas loaf._   
_Love and joy come to you, and to you your wassail, too,”_

“You’re hungry?” Sam tries not to laugh.

Dean nods, still scowling.

“Okay, we’ll go and get some food. Cas, are you coming in?”

“No, I’ll go speak to Derek, I’m sure I can convince him to remove the curse.”

_“Yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting Light_   
_The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.”_

“I’ll do my best, Dean,” Cas smiles.

In the diner Sam resists the temptation to choose a nice healthy salad for Dean, and orders the usual double cheeseburger and fries. He adds onion rings to the order, which makes Dean smile for the first time all day.

Dean’s so happy when his food arrives that he forgets the curse for a moment, and tells the bemused waitress,

_“E'en so here below, below, let steeple bells be swungen,_   
_And "Io, io, io!" by priest and people sungen.”_

“My brother has the Christmas spirit.” Sam tells the waitress.

Dean blushes and peers around to make sure none of the other customers heard him, before digging into his food with his usual gusto.

After coffee and pie, Dean yawns and says, _“And His shelter was a stable,_  
 _And His cradle was a stall.”_

“You wanna go back to the motel? Ready to turn in?” Sam asks.

Dean nods, looking so dejected and weary that Sam’s heart aches.

“We’ll fix this, Dean. I’m sure Cas is working on it right now.”

 _“O tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy_  
 _O tidings of comfort and joy.”_ Dean sighs, and Sam’s amazed at how sarcastic Dean can still be when speaking only in carol lyrics.

Dean collapses on the bed as soon as they return to the motel, and is asleep in seconds, which is unusual for him, but Sam knows how exhausted he is. Sam’s tired too, but he needs to know if Cas has had any luck with the witch.

He texts Cas and gets a swift reply. “It’s not Derek. It’s Rowena.”

Sam’s fists tighten. If he gets his hands on that red-haired bitch-witch he’ll cheerfully throttle her for what she’s done to Dean. Yes, he has to admit it’s kinda funny, but it’s also embarrassing and frustrating for Dean.

Cas arrives looking as angry as Sam feels. “How is he?”

“Exhausted. But he managed to eat, so that’s something.”

“And he’s resting, good.” Cas sighs.

“Any leads on Rowena?”

“Yes, Derek was very helpful, he used a location spell. You won’t believe where she is.”

“Where?”

“Lebanon, Kansas.”

“What the hell? Cas, you need to get back and make sure she’s not found a way into the bunker.”

“Okay, I’ll check it out.” Cas agrees before he departs.

Sam falls asleep waiting for news from Cas, and is relieved to be woken by a text from Cas stating that she’s not in the Bunker.

Dean wakes up shortly after, with a yawn and a stretch. _“Christians, awake, salute the happy morn_

 _Whereon the Savior of the world was born.”_ He groans and flops back on the bed, covering his face with his hands.

“Morning, Mr Christmas!” Sam laughs. “Don’t worry, we know who’s behind this.”

Dean sits up again, his eyes eloquently telling Sam to get on with it.

“It’s Rowena, and she’s in Lebanon...” Sam starts to say.

Dean gets up and starts packing his duffel, telling Sam, _“Page and monarch forth they went, forth they went together, through the rude wind's wild lament, and the bitter weather”_

“Okay, I know you want to get on the road.” Sam grins. “And I’m obviously the monarch and not the page here.”

Dean scowls at Sam as he heads to the bathroom.

Dean’s quiet in the car, which Sam guesses is understandable. He plays his music loudly, but he can’t assault Sam’s ears by singing along. Sam almost misses Dean’s off-key singing. Sam stares at the scenery and wonders why Rowena’s done this. It’s petty and silly, not really her style.

As they near Lebanon, Dean says, _“They looked up and saw a star, shining in the East beyond them far,_  
 _And to the earth it gave great light, and so it continued both day and night.”_

“Yep, we’re nearly there.” Sam nods, adding, “Cas texted, he knows where she is, she’s at the Motel on Main Street.”

_“Look now, for glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing;_   
_Oh rest beside the weary road, and hear the angels sing.”_

“You’re right, Dean glad and golden hours are coming for you, thanks to our angel.”

Dean manages a tight smile in reply. When they arrive at the motel, Cas appears as they get out of the car. He tells them he’s been watching the room and Rowena hasn’t left it. They head straight to her room and kick the door open.

“Gentlemen, that’s no way to enter a room,” Rowena scolds them as they burst in. She’s sitting in a chair opposite the door, cool, calm and obviously waiting for them.

“Fix him.” Sam demands.

 _“Far as the curse is found, far as the curse is found,_  
 _Far as, far as, the curse is found.”_ Dean adds, pointing his gun at Rowena.

“You don’t need to point your gun at me, Dean,” she pouts. “You know your wee bullets can’t harm me.”

Dean pulls out from his pocket the post-it note he’s carried around since he was cursed the last time, lucky him, which says “WITCH KILLING BULLETS.”

“Well, that does change things,” Rowena sighs. “But if you kill me, you won’t get the cure.”

“Come on, Rowena, you’ve had your fun.” Sam intervenes.

“No, I haven’t.” She looks from one brother to the other. “I’ve never been invited to a Christmas meal, and I wanted to join you two lummockses for your meal. You know, I thought we’d shared a moment back when Dean lost his marbles, but Dean told me he’d rather invite Lucifer than me. It hurt.”

“Dean, when did you even speak to her?” Cas asks, and Dean shrugs.

“Dean and I are Facebook friends; did he not tell you?” Rowena smirks.

“No, he didn’t.” Sam stares at Dean in disbelief.

 _“Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright.”_ Dean says, looking sheepish.

“You may not be able to talk now, Dean, but silence won’t be an option later. We’ll be talking about this.” Sam says, giving him bitch face number three.

“So, if they invite you to join us on Christmas Day, you’ll fix Dean?” Cas asks.

“Yes, of course!” Rowena smiles.

“What do you think, Dean?” Sam asks.

Dean nods, glaring at Rowena. _“O Come All Ye Faithful, Joyful and triumphant.”_

“Why, thank you, Dean,” Rowena smiles and waves her right hand in his direction. “You’re now back to your usual charming self.”

“Thank Chuck for that!” Dean shakes his head like he can’t believe it. “That was beyond fucking frustrating.”

“Although it was quite nice not to hear son-of-a-bitch, awesome or seriously for twenty-four hours!" Sam grins.

“Screw you, bitch.” Dean retorts, trying hard not to smile.

“It’s good to have you back, Dean, and your colorful language.” Castiel pats him on the back.

“I just need to know one thing,” Dean looks at them all. “What the fuck is a wassail?”


End file.
